


Broken

by fluffernutter8



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-08
Updated: 2010-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:33:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffernutter8/pseuds/fluffernutter8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the future, Buffy and Angel reflect on the past in the face of their empty present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gutted

The doctor voice was gentle, and her touch to Buffy's wrist was very tender. Buffy wondered how she could still find that compassion inside her. She had stopped being the one to comfort the families of her murdered slayers when it became mechanical for her.

"Oh, _ was a wonderful girl. She was so strong and the others looked up to her very much. She'll be missed by all of us." The first time she had to look down at a piece of paper to remind herself who she was supposed to be grieving, she decided that they should send the girl's unit leader instead.

"How many people have you had to tell this to?" She hadn't meant to ask the question, and she could tell by the way Angel's hand jumped on the armrest next to hers that he hadn't expected it either. Dr. Oshman kept the same smooth, calm expression that she always wore, as if Buffy were not the first to ask her this.

"There have been fewer women in the past few years," she said. Buffy wondered this statistic was supposed to make her feel glad that she was one of the elect. "But in thirty years, I have had to tell a hundred and ninety-four women that I believed that they were unable to have children." Buffy's face was tipped toward her lap, so it must have been Angel who looked surprised that she remembered the number so exactly. The doctor's voice had weight as she explained, and Buffy wished that there were a fan in the office to break up the humidity it seemed to bring to the small room. "You don't forget the times you break someone's heart like this."

"So you can't do anything?" Angel's tone tried to grasp onto businesslike or even plaintive, but instead landed on broken. Buffy finally understood why it was called "breaking bad news." It wasn't that you had to tell it in pieces. No matter how you delivered it, whatever you were saying would shatter whoever you were telling.

"There is nothing physically wrong with either you or your wife, Mr. Delaney. In cases like this, unless you want to consider surrogacy, any treatments we have are rather hit and miss."

"There's no...procedures? Nothing we can fix?" His voice skidded in to desperate, as if he were on two wheels and barely clinging to the balance.

"Mr. Del-"

"There's nothing, Angel. Let's go." Buffy picked up her purse. She turned to leave, then stepped back to the desk. "Thank you, doctor." She couldn't bring herself to shake Dr. Oshman's hand as if they were just wrapping up a casual meeting. She walked out, not checking whether Angel was behind her.  



	2. Blue Lily

  
He was, and he was still behind her when she arrived at a bar a few blocks away. It was called The Blue Lily, and she was sure it was a packed enough place at night. But at three in the afternoon, there was no need to elbow her way to the bar and Angel was able to take the stool next to hers.  
  
He didn't protest when she ordered three successive shots of vodka. She wasn't sure whether it was because he wanted to let her deal, or if he was still in shock.  
  
She felt the need to cry weighing on her like the earth on Atlas's back. The drinks were just enhancing her sadness, making her remember that she could only drink because she was not pregnant.  
  
"Here." The bartender, a thirtyish man, totally nondescript except for the bright orange that was on the tips of his hair, slid a bright martini glass in front of her. "Have some of this."  
  
Buffy looked at it suspiciously before taking a drink. She meant to toss it back in a to-hell-with-this, alcoholic motion, but she began to savor as soon as the liquid touched her tongue. It was sweet and slightly thick and, as she swallowed, she felt the sadness inside her grab her.  
  
 _It must be my fault_ , she thought. _Angel already has a child, so it must be me. Maybe if I hadn't slayed so much..._ " She took another sip as the thought slogged back into her brain.  
  
The bartender appeared with another glass for her. "What is this?" She asked hoarsely.  
  
"We call it a Blue Lily. House special. Really special."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Girl came in one day, sadder than anyone I've ever seen, and I've been tending bar since I was sixteen." He winked. "Don't tell. Anyway, this girl asked for a weird mixed drink that I'd never heard of before, and as soon as she'd had a sip, she started crying. Cried through the next two as well, big damn tears, like her whole world had died and left her behind. When she left, she told me that her name was Lily and I should serve that to anyone who looked as sad as she did. When you walked in, you looked like you could use a few."  
  
He paused for a moment, waiting for her to tell all, maybe, but when she didn't he just shrugged. "Haven't had much opportunity to serve them, which I count among my blessings. But when I do, I call it a Blue Lily. Naming drinks isn't my forte." He tipped a small smile at her which she did not return before. He sighed and set a fresh glass in front of her before starting over to serve someone at the opposite end of the bar.  
  
Buffy sipped her new drink, but she had trouble. Her throat was clogged and mucousy from the crying she could not seem to stop. When her stool began to wobble because she could no longer balance on it, she felt Angel's hand on her arm. He drove them home, silently.  
  
Seeing their house, with its five bedrooms that they had bought optimistically "for the kids" six years ago, made Buffy hiccup out a fresh sob. Angel guided her up to their bedroom and helped her put on a large t-shirt. She lay down immediately after, and he didn't press her to brush her teeth. Instead, he lay down beside her, picking tangles out of her hair. Only a shift in his breathing after many minutes made her realize that he was crying.  
  
"Angel," she whispered, rolling over to see his face. He closed his eyes to her and she reached up to touch his closed lids. He opened them again, petted her hair.  
  
"It's okay, Buffy. We're okay." His voice was croaky and low. "We'll talk in the morning."  
  
She wanted to comfort him, to make him promise they they would talk, but his hand felt as good on her hair as her mother's used to when she was sick. Her body felt heavy and slow.  
  
"I want my mom," she confessed feebly into Angel's shoulder and dropped into sleep.  
  
When she woke up in the morning, they were still in the same position, as if they were trapped posing for a painting. "Un-Parents, Grieving."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted at ba_rosebuds on livejournal. Prompt was Blue Lily.


End file.
